I sit here as if on a shelf,
a pedestal to mourn myself
while sadness like a child lay
within my womb while you're away.
When are you coming back, my dear?
It's getting very quiet here
but for the drops of cold, gray rain
that beat against the window pane.
While you're ignoring my behest
a sadness grows within my chest;
suspicion that you won't return
how could you your sweet lover spurn?
Outside this prison of a house
that's ever absent of my spouse
Autumn grows and garden grays
the birds have all gone from that place.
On the garden bench I sit
finally ready to admit
My wait is over; you are gone
I let out the anxious breath I'd drawn
those weeks ago when you first left.
Now I refuse to be bereft.
If you can move on, so can I;
joy I won't my heart deny.
The rain falls; I catch some on my tongue
this fresh rain makes me feel so young.
I walk now through my garden gray;
it looks a bit more green today.
A contest entry
- Contest for many types of poems, Prewrites allowed. by Systems Malfunction.
500 points, ended January 30, 2008, 46 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Awsome. Perfectly done AABB rhyme poem. My computers not working effectively, but I'll be adding you to the finalist list in my contest (this is basically a note for me to come back to your poem).
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beautiful in a very tragic and deeply affecting way... powerful and sorrowful...
I love the final stanza, quite especially...
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